Digital Papercut
by twounderscorethreefour
Summary: Right, I know what you’re thinking. Why would a kid like me end up with something as faggy as a blog? Well, that’s just it; I’m a fag. A homo. Queer. Gay. I’m gay, alright?" Style. Stan's POV.
1. Prologue

I really hope I captured Stan's voice well.

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**3 September **

Right, I know what you're thinking. Why would a kid like _me_ end up with something as faggy as a blog? Well, that's just it; I'm a fag. A homo. Queer. Gay, I'm gay.

And I'm going to say it before any of you can beat me to it. Although, to be frank, I'm hoping that "you" is really just some loser in his mom's basement who has nothing better to do than read the online journal of a sixteen-year-old closet homosexual, and not someone I actually know _in real life_.

Especially Kyle.

Kyle Broflovski. My best friend. My best friend since, like, freaking pre-K. The kind of friend that I can tell anything to. And you know Kyle. If he found out that I came out to some stupid blog before him, he'd freak.

Kyle is possessive. Not in a bad way, I don't think. Just in a nice way, in a way that means he likes being important to me. A high priority, number one in my life.

But that isn't the reason I broke up with Wendy! I didn't break up with her because of Kyle. Well, partially. I broke up with her for a lot of reasons. The first being that I don't _like girls, _obviously_._ Wendy was nice and all, but she wasn't… appealing. Not like Kyle.

Fuck, Kyle's adorable. He has a cute little glowing face with freckles and long eyelashes. And he's so skinny and pale… but not in a gross way. In a cute way. Like in a way that makes you want to take care of him, just instinctively, because he looks so, you know… so delicate. He even has those pink pouty lips that all those girls wear makeup to replicate.

Maybe I'm not gay. Maybe I like Kyle because he looks so much like a girl.

…Nope, just read that last paragraph again. I'm a flaming faggot.

Which is okay, I guess. It wouldn't be like I was the first kid at South Park to come out. Tweek outed himself and Craig a few months ago. It was kind of funny because he ended up on the floor twitching because of all the "pressure".

But Craig wasn't even mad at him for it. Tweek started apologizing profusely, or whatever, and Craig was just like, "It's okay, Tweek. It's okay," until Tweek had calmed down. Then they started making out, which lead me to realize how fucking bigoted kids around here really are.

They aren't as merciless as you'd expect kids from a redneck small Colorado town like South Park to be. They didn't like, scream obscenities at them or anything (save for Cartman, but that's to be expected), but the way they fucking _talked_ was ridiculous. They acted like it was such a _scandal_.

Like, I'm totally not obsessed with my reputation. I mean, yeah, I care about what people think about me – who doesn't? – but I'm not going to pretend to be someone I'm not just so people will like me. Truth be told, about ninety percent of the people I know are idiots.

But it isn't like I'm going to voluntarily shatter my standing either. What I'm about to tell you will all make sense in a minute, I promise.

Like, okay. I'm not a total retard, but my grades aren't the best. You know how it is. I'm normally too distracted to pay attention in class or study. But Kyle's brilliant, and he's bound to get into some super prestigious university two years from now. He sets high expectations for himself, and I know he wants to go to college with me. We're Super Best Friends, that's just how it is.

And that's why I have to get a football scholarship. I'm the quarterback of our school's football team. And I know Park County High isn't the biggest school around, but with this position and great recommendations I can probably pull some sort of acceptance into a good school.

If the hicks around here knew I was gay, I doubt they'd give me those recommendations. I doubt I'd get to go to school with Kyle. And the social ridicule wouldn't help much, I'm sure.

Kyle could handle it. He never cared much about the public. He isn't nearly as sensitive as I am. Despite his feminine exterior, Kyle is incredibly feisty. Whenever he gets worked up, his cheeks flush this delicious cherry hue; it's adorable.

I have a feeling that this journal is going to be more of me ranting about Kyle than anything else.

Well. School, Kyle, and everything in-between.

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Cheesy? Yes. Expect a lot of fluff. Expect a lot of a lot, I guess.

Well, it depends… do you think I should continue? Did you like it?

Tell me what you think!


	2. Old Grind

Stan says "like" a lot. It's part of his adorable stammering character and it makes him sound way less cereal.

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Today was a good day. First day of our junior year, in fact. I hadn't seen Kyle for all of August, because his mom sent him to some nerd camp. I could tell that he didn't want to go, but there wasn't much he could do. It was great to see him again.

We only have English, History, and Physics together. And lunch, of course. Kyle's taking some advanced Calculus class; I'm in Algebra. Oh, and his mom's making him take Latin, which is kind of stupid if you ask me. It's a dead language, who cares?

It's kind of awkward because Kyle has a lot of classes with Wendy. Well, the two I don't have with him, at least. So he spends a lot of time studying with her. Sometimes I wonder if they talk about me. I mean, we broke up last spring… and Kyle's my _best friend_ so surely he has something to say about me to her…

Not like I'm being conceited. She's probably completely over me. Which is good, because like, if she wasn't, she'd just end up disappointed. It isn't like I don't like Wendy and that's why I don't talk to her now. We just don't have much in common, much to talk about. I guess we never really did.

The strangest part of all of this is Cartman. Yeah, I know, he's Cartman. He's the same bigoted racist fatass that he always was, don't get me wrong, but he's been spending a lot of time with her lately. With Wendy. It isn't like I care, you know, that I'm jealous. It's just _weird_ because all they do is insult and argue with eachother.

They just do it more frequently, and it's getting suspicious.

"One day they're going to make up and have the hottest sex ever," Kenny predicted at lunch today, and Kyle threw an orange peel at him.

Kyle eats a lot of oranges. It's cute, because they match his hair. And he always smells like a mixture of citrus and soap.

It's ironic that oranges are supposed to have a lot of Vitamin C, which is supposed to boost your immune system, because Kyle's always sick. Seriously, he's down with some sort of virus like every month. And it's even more ironic that I have an irrational phobia of hospitals.

It's totally not my fault, though. Hospitals are fucking _disturbing_. People _die_ there. I heard somewhere that there are like, a bunch of confused souls floating the halls or something. It's really creepy.

Almost as creepy as our English teacher, Ms. Clarence. She's like, twenty but she talks like she was born in the 1800s. She said that we were studying "Literature" and that citizens of our age should "have already an impressive grasp of the English language". This, apparently, means that there won't be tests. This seemed like the fucking jackpot at first, until she announced that we're going to be assigned bi-monthly papers, each one-thousand words minimum.

Oh, and she looks like the Goth chick from the Breakfast Club. I forget her name. Ask Cartman, he would know.

I think the only reason any of us still hang out with Cartman is because he has a car. Well, okay, I _sort of_ have a car, since my dad's license got suspended (too many DUIs) and I've become the only male driver in the house. But it's a crappy car, and Cartman drives a Lexus RS. You can guess who our designated chauffeur is.

Then again, if any of us has a falling out with Cartman (other than Kyle, because that's kind of an hourly thing for him), I can smuggle Kenny in the hatch since I'm not allowed to have more than one passenger yet.

Except, the last time we did that, we got Kenny killed. Which wasn't exactly a big deal, but you know, whatever. It still looked kind of bad; all the blood stains in my trunk.

You know, I kind of wish I could write better. I wish I had something to write _about_. Other than my unnatural gay crush on my best friend and jealousy toward my ex girlfriend for getting to spend so much time with him.

Between football and studying, Kyle and I don't get to hang out nearly as much as we used to. I mean, it's still at least five times a week but we used to practically live at each other's houses. I've started driving him home after school, though. It's nice, gives us time to talk.

Even though the ride is only like, five minutes long. Park County High is actually located in South Park… although I figured it should be in Middle Park, but whatever. I'm not complaining.

I don't have much else to say, really, so I guess I'll end it here. Give Kyle a call.

You know how it goes.

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I've been seeing that a lot of people are favoriting/alerting this, which is super awesome. Thanks a bunch! And even more thanks to my reviewers, I hope you got my replies!

What do you think should happen next? I want drama, but I'm not sure how to go about it. Any ideas?


	3. Suspicions

Hurrr, running out of ideas here!

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Kyle ditched his hat. Today, I mean.

Okay, I know he should have done it a LONG time ago, since that's when everyone else stopped wearing theirs. They simply got too small and nobody bothered to buy new ones, just because going hat shopping is stupid. Really. But Kyle's always been really self-conscious of his hair, right? So he's been hiding it as long as he could. But it had already started to peek out of his hat, anyway… so it was only a matter of time before he realized that the green ushanka had to go.

He looks pretty good without it. Like, he has that messy mop of auburn curls but they're cut in nice layers and they frame his face really well. Even if his ginger locks are frizzy as fuck. He looks more awkward than before, but he's cuter than before, too.

Yeah, yeah. I know you might be assuming that I'm only saying this because I have a creepy gay crush on him and I think he'll look good no matter what. But I'm totally not the only one who thinks this. Just about every girl in our class was all over him today.

"Kyle, your hair is so cute!"

"Kyle, can you walk me to class?"

"Kyle, do you want to eat lunch with us?"

"Kyle, what a nice binder!"

"Kyle, I didn't get the history notes…"

Oh my god, it was ridiculous. He doesn't look _that_ different. Like I said, he still looks really awkward. But maybe it's his awkward Jewish persona that appeals to girls so much. And me.

But, okay, it totally doesn't help that he wears really tight pants (not like I'm complaining; he has a fantastic ass). Sometimes we'll tease him about how gay of him it is (oh, the irony), and he'll say it's because he's a scrawny, diabetic Jew, and that he's practically swimming in regular pants and needs something that fits him properly.

Yeah, or he's gay. I hope.

Who knows?

Well, actually, I have my rightful suspicions.

Right, so Kyle's been totally indifferent toward the attention he got today. The _female_ attention. Even freakin' Bebe Stevens was into him. Kenny was sort of jealous; I could tell. Even if Bebe is sort of just his fuck buddy.

"Man, Kyle, how do you do it?" Kenny inquired today after school. We'd all met up at his house, simply because Kenny didn't want to go home (who could blame him?) and I can't miss out on spending extra time with Kyle. Plus, we're super best friends. It's sort of expected.

"Do what?" Kyle had asked.

"Come on; don't tell me you didn't notice."

Kyle sighed that typical Kyle sigh. "Notice _what_, Kenny?"

"The _chicks_, man. Practically every fucking girl in our _class_ was all over you." Kenny explained.

Kyle seemed entirely indifferent. He just said "oh", and continued his math homework. Like, what the hell? For real, he totally didn't care. Either he likes fucking Wendy (God forbid), who's like, the only girl who didn't care about the exposure of his adorable fucking jewfro (really, his wavy bangs stop right below his eyebrows and he keeps pushing them out of his eyes and _fucking hell_ it's so cute)… or he's gay.

I really, really hope it's the second one.

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Whenever I go to check my email (the one I use only for this site), and I see that I have like, nine new messages, I get super excited. Then I see that they're all favorites and alerts, which is fucking FANTASTIC… but a review would be nice, too. Even if you're just saying that you liked it or whatever. When people favorite without reviewing, it makes me sad.

Reviewers get cake. Or pie. Whichever you prefer – I'm more of a pie person myself.

WELL, UM. DID YOU LIKE THIS? I SERIOUSLY NEED PLOT IDEAS BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO SO ANY SUGGESTIONS WOULD BE AWESOME, THANKS. :D


	4. Second Best

YOU GUYS ARE SO AMAZING. Really, I'm not kidding. Thank you SO MUCH for the favorites and subscriptions and especially the reviews. As soon as I read (and replied to) all of them, I had to get working on this right away. I sincerely do believe that they make me write faster.

Oh, and I received some excellent ideas/suggestions from spazmoid and FirstLaugh-LastTears. So; here's your shout out, guys!

I cannot express my gratitude. Really, I can't.

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Well, I'm sitting in my room drinking a bottle of pineapple-orange-coconut juice (about the gayest nonalcoholic beverage there is, I'm pretty sure) and waiting for Kyle to come over. He should be here soon, actually; I'm just musing here to pass the time.

Remember our creepy English teacher? Well, she assigned us a research project. Kyle and I have to do a report (both written AND oral, since Ms. Clarence is a crazy bitch) on the influence the depression had on American Literature. Normally I'd complain, but English isn't too much of a weak point on my part. I know how to use your and you're correctly, which is more than I can say for half the kids at my school.

When she told us to choose our partners, I almost freaked. Almost. Do you know why? Wendy and Kyle looked at eachother, in that do-you-want-to-be-partners kind of way. Like, I get that Kyle wants a good grade and Wendy's ranked first in our class, but seriously. Come on. They study together almost every day; they don't need a fucking English project to bond over too.

Luckily, Bebe got Wendy's attention and nabbed her before Kyle could. That was when he turned to me. It kind of hurt, knowing I was his second choice, but really. Be reasonable. The only reason he would have chosen Wendy over me is because she's some sort of English prodigy. Right? Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what it is.

He didn't seem too disappointed, either. To be working with me, I mean. We were just assigned our topic and he started chatting away about some old poet that I don't know anything about. I figure that he'll do most of the written report and I can take care of the actual presentation. Kyle's a great speaker, but it's only fair that I do some of the work too. That's what I figured, at least.

God. You know what? I think I lied about not being bothered about the Wendy thing. I haven't hung out with Kyle one-on-one in a really long time. Especially since he's been at Jew camp. And Wendy gets to spend time alone with him practically _every day_.

He tried to convince me that I have nothing to be worried about, and I tried to not act like a jealous faggy asshole.

"I don't know what you're thinking," He said after school, "but when Wendy and I get together to study, we _actually study_. I've got to get into a good school, Stan."

I know, Kyle, me too. That's why I've been so fucking awkward lately. I wish you knew.

…And I should probably get rid of this drink before you get here.

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Okay, seriously. Who else becomes annoyed as all hell when people confuse "you're" with "your"? It drives me absolutely insane. And the they're/their/there thing, too.

Reviews equal fast writing.

What did you think?


	5. Convenient Uncomfortability

You guys are really too awesome. Your reviews are so lovely, I appreciate them a lot. Oh, and another plot idea was given to me by ticktock1029… I think I'll be using part of it.

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Being right all the time has its perks.

The first thing I was right about was Wendy. About her being over me, I mean. Yeah, she's totally over me. How do I know this? Well, okay, earlier today, when Kyle was over, working on our English project, he got a text from her. A flirty text. You know, like with a winking face. Kyle sort of grimaced and handed his phone to me so I could read it. Ugh.

The second thing I was right about was Kyle. Like, you know, that he's gay. I realize that it wasn't such a far-fetched theory, and that gay people are supposed to have super good gaydar, or whatever, but still. How do I know _this_? Um, alright. I'll start at the beginning.

So Kyle got to my house. And he was wearing those ridiculously tight jeans. Cocktease. Then we went up to my room and started working on our project. Kyle had to do some research, so he was like, "Dude can I use your computer?" and I was like, "Yeah, sure, okay". So he walks over to my desk and pushes his bangs out of his eyes (fuck, fuck, _fuck_ he's cute) and turns on the monitor.

Then I start skimming the text book, taking notes, you know; homework bullshit. Ten or so minutes later, Kyle sneezes (I swear he even does _that_ adorably), and I look up, and I'm all, "bless you" and then I _see the monitor_.

Right, remember when I said I should put away my gay fucking drink before Kyle came over? I should have also closed my gay fucking BLOG before he came over, too.

Naturally, I freaked out. I just froze. I was like, shit. Oh my god. Shit. Fuck. Shit. That's all that ran through my mind, pretty much. I probably mumbled a few things, too, but I don't remember because I was just SO embarrassed.

Then, Kyle rolled his eyes. Then he started laughing. Like this cute sputtering giggle. He was just like, "Stan, calm down". But I _couldn't calm down_ because my best friend who I would also like to bone had just found my blog that speaks of said lust for said best friend.

Then he just got up from my desk chair, all casual, and put his arm around me so his hand was on my shoulder. And he told me to calm down again, and then he kissed me.

And it was really unexpected. And sort of messy and awkward, but I didn't care because I was kissing Kyle. Kyle was kissing me. Kyle and I were kissing. No matter how you phrase it, it still sounds fucking awesome.

It was over quickly, and I know that in most movies and stuff, after one person pulls away the other person is supposed to pull them back. But I didn't do that, I just kind of sat there and grinned.

"Kyle, Jesus." I mumbled. I was still shocked. But a good shocked, this time. Not a terrified shocked like before. "I just. Um."

Then he got the text from Wendy.

_Kyle, I missed seeing you today! Let's see a movie on Saturday. (;_

He politely declined.

Fuck, I'm so happy.

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No, no. It's barely over. Just because they are together does not mean that there won't be any mad drama. Like, super mad drama. I have got big plans for this one, guys.

Whenever I read your reviews, it's like I'm urged to continue writing this. They make me write SO FAST. Two chapters in less than twenty four hours. Come on, you know you want more of this. So tell me what you think!


	6. Nearly There

AHHHH you guys are the best. I mean it. Here's part six. It's going to be a two-parter. As in, two blog posts. So I'll be uploading chapters six and seven close together. Yay.

Oh, and the "mad drama" I was talking about. Well, it's coming. After this two-chapter arc, I promise.

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The thing I like the most about this is that nothing has really changed between Kyle and me.

He still comes over for dinner a lot. We still play video games after school and sit together at lunch. We talk about the same things and hang out with the same people. Except, sometimes, we kiss. And it's really nice.

Except most of what we do is done in private. And, let's face it, between his study time with Wendy and football practice, we don't have much time alone together. I mean, it's cool just _knowing_ that he likes me in the same way I like him. Fuck, that's practically enough. But god damn it; Kyle's lips are addicting.

I think he feels the same way. Dating in secret is only fun for so long. Okay, admittedly, we were _kind of_ already dating before. We would hang out all the time and see movies together, but we weren't as, um… attached _physically_. And I like putting my arm around him, okay?

Well, I was doing just that earlier this evening. We were watching some movie on his TV. And I don't mean "watching a movie", like with quotations, which is just code for sucking face. That's tacky. No, we were actually watching a movie. Like we did before. Except, you know, we were… cuddling.

God, that sounds so gay.

Anyway. It was a made-for-TV movie, right? So Kyle turns to me, and he says, "Stan, we can't keep doing this."

It's kind of like a recurrence of my last freak out, and Kyle notices. Quickly, he restates, "We can't keep hiding from everyone."

I told him about my football scholarship, and how my chances of getting it would decrease if I was out as a homosexual. Then Kyle said I could sue for discrimination, and I felt a little better.

Then, Kyle convinced me that it wouldn't be that hard. Craig and Tweek were openly gay, and just about as popular as ever. Well, Tweek was only popular by association, but whatever. Still. They were going to the homecoming dance together, and Kyle told me that he wanted us to go together, too.

It was kind of sweet. Casual. Demanding. Very Kyle.

"I don't know if I'm ready," I admitted. "I mean. My parents." And Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Please. My mom is _Jewish_. If I can tell them, you can tell yours too. It's not that big a deal. If they don't accept it, I can deal." He shrugged.

Somehow Kyle's ability to brush off any sort of social disapproval was encouraging, and I reluctantly agreed. We're going to tell our friends at school tomorrow.

I'm nervous.

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This was short, I know! Don't hit me!

It was short because… well… like I said, the next chapter will be uploaded in a few hours or so.

You guys are really so encouraging. I wish I could hug you. The more reviews I get, the more I want to write! So tell me what you think!


	7. Tomorrow

In case anyone notices, this is just a massive reference to my one shot, "Uncoincidental Malady". I wasn't originally planning to include this, but it fits into this story really well. Except for the part about them going on an actual official date. They don't do that here, otherwise Stan would gush about it. Relentlessly.

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Kyle's sick.

I should have seen it coming; he was coughing a lot yesterday. And he always gets these like, seasonal colds. It's almost routine.

Of course, this meant that he wasn't at school today. Normally, Kyle has the decency to stay home when he's sick. So he doesn't infect others. Which is pretty generous, when you think about it, since he hates missing school – too much homework to make up. I hate it when he misses school too, for obvious reasons.

So I was pretty bummed. And totally prepared to make our relationship public. Being at school would just have been a waste of a day, so I ditched.

If I were Kyle, I would have probably bolted. Without telling anyone. Just, you know, walked out of school. But I think things through. More carefully than Kyle does, at least. So I made up some bullshit excuse about my Grandpa having cancer (truth is, he died five years ago) and drove to Kyle's place.

He really did look sick. He was all pale and his cheeks were pink. He had to lean against the doorframe just to stand. Like, he was trembling. And coughing. A lot.

Oh, and get this. _He_ was concerned. For me. That I would catch what he had. He kept saying, you know, "Stan, don't get too close, I don't want you to get sick" but the stuffy way he pronounced my name ("Stad") was way too cute for me not to hold him. Really.

At first, I kept asking him if he needed anything. Like, Tylenol or cough medicine. But he kept resisting, and _Werewolf of London_ was on TV so we kind of resorted to watching that. But Kyle was really sniffly and distracting, so I disregarded the movie and kissed him.

Which was kind of unusual, because he's usually the one to initiate it. The kissing, I mean. Not that I don't like it; Kyle just always makes the first move. There's a lot of alternating between top and bottom, but Kyle usually ends up the superior. I asked him about this.

I was like, "Why do you always get to be on top?" Because it kind of implies that he thinks I am the lesser man. I wasn't offended, though, just curious.

Kyle shrugged. "You're lazy,"

Oh. Okay.

One thing I really like about Kyle is that he's like a firecracker. He isn't afraid to speak his mind; he doesn't let anyone push him around. Independent; he's independent. But just because he's emotional doesn't mean he's sensitive.

I'm sensitive. I'm the thin-skinned one. Figuratively, of course, because when you look at Kyle's arm you can see every bone and tendon jutting out. But that's partly because he's so thin, I suppose.

Thin enough for me to wrap my arms around his waist nearly twice. I mean, yeah, I have long arms, but whatever. Despite the unhealthiness of his frame, it's very convenient. And it's not like he can help it. He's diabetic.

Ugh, I don't know how he does it. He has to stab himself so often just to eat. And if he wants a midnight snack, or something, then he has to stab himself again – just the right amount – so that he isn't up puking all night because his system just couldn't handle it.

I hate needles. I can't watch when he does that insulin thing.

Plus, it always reminds me that Kyle has Cartman's kidney.

And that's just awkward.

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Thanks so much for all the encouragement! It means so much to me. You guys are amazing. More reviews; faster updates! If you like it, tell me! And I'll include more of whatever it is that you like.

In chapter eight, the plot will thicken. I promise.


	8. Frustration

Sorry it took me a bit longer than usual to update.

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My throat hurts.

I'm not sure if it's from yelling at fucking Wendy or because I'm catching whatever Kyle has. Probably a combination of the two. God damn it.

Let me explain something to you. See, okay. Remember yesterday, when I told the school that my grandpa had cancer? And remember how I wrote _in here_ that it was just a bullshit excuse and my grandpa's been dead for years? Right, so if the school finds out that I skipped without parental permission, I'm screwed.

It goes on my record.

No scholarship.

I shouldn't be worried, though, right? Because the only person who knows I did that is, um. Whoever reads my blog. Which, I thought, was practically nobody. You'd figure that I'd be safe.

Except, you know. Fucking Wendy read my blog.

And she's still hung up about _something_. I don't know what it is, exactly. Maybe she's jealous or butthurt about me and Kyle. But that shouldn't be my problem, right? I mean it's not my fault that she's so pissy. God damn.

Fucking Wendy seems very dignified. She dresses appropriately and speaks slowly and calmly. She just seems, you know, cool about everything. Except me and Kyle.

We pretty much came out today. Like I said before, we didn't do anything too differently from the usual. Except, like. We held hands on the way to class.

Then Red was like, "Are you two going out?"

And Kyle sternly said, "Yes."

Then Red told Kevin and Kevin told like, a million other people and Cartman called us fags. It wasn't as big a deal as I thought it would be.

Until after school. Kyle was getting his bags from his locker and then fucking Wendy showed up. And she was like, "Stan, can I talk to you for a second?"

I blinked. Kyle said he'd meet me at my car.

Fucking Wendy just sighed. Then she looked me in the eye, and it was really awkward.

She said, "Stan, I'm not going to beat around the bush. I read your blog."

I froze, but fucking Wendy seemed unaffected. She continued.

"I won't lie to you, Stan. I was surprised. I didn't think Kyle was… you know, like that."

Like what, gay? His girlish appearance should say that for him.

"But you knew I was?" I asked.

"Well, I kind of figured. You only get sick around hospitals, and heights. And when you get motion sickness. And… girls. I thought it was because you were nervous, but then I figured it out. I'm not stupid, Stan."

I shrugged. "Okay, so you read my blog. So what? Everyone already knows about me and Kyle."

"You weren't at school yesterday," Fucking Wendy said pointedly. Calmly. So frustrating.

"Oh," I paused. "Well… you aren't going to tell anyone, right?"

Yeah. As if.

"I'd like to go to the homecoming dance with Kyle."

"Fuck no! Kyle's my _boyfriend_ and he doesn't _like_ you. How is that fair?"

"I'm just negotiating, Stanley."

Stanley. Only my fucking mother calls me Stanley.

"Do I have another choice?" I asked.

"There's nothing else I want," Fucking Wendy answered. "Homecoming is in two weeks, I'd like to know if I'll have a date by this Saturday."

Then she left.

Fuck.

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Fucking Wendy, you guys. Lol.

Want more?


	9. No Resolution

I DON'T HATE WENDY, YOU GUYS. REALLY, I DON'T. She's such a good plot device! I don't like her in the show, though. Whenever she holds Stan's hand I want to cry, because it should be Kyle in her place. REALLY.

So, yes. I got a good question. The question was, "if Wendy reads Stan's blog, won't she see this whole entry calling her Fucking Wendy and all that shit?"

Alright, justjayit, here's your answer. You can look at it one of two ways. Either Stan has locked his blog posts (like some sites allow you to do) so that Wendy cannot see them, or he wants her to see how miserable and angry she is making him (although Stan doesn't seem to be one to guilt people into things, I like to think he's more mature than that).

TAKE YOUR PICK.

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I didn't have time to tell Kyle about fucking Wendy's blackmail. He found out himself.

Every Saturday morning, they meet at her house. To study. Because, you know, Kyle's really into studying. Which is fine. Well, it was fine until I found out that fucking Wendy was trying to "fix" him.

Really. Yup. I'm serious. That's the term she used. Fix. She wants to _fix_ Kyle.

There's nothing wrong with him. Fix. That's such a homophobic term. It kind of bothers me, actually. But whatever.

Kyle and I planned to hang out after he and fucking Wendy were done studying. And we did. I was waiting for him at his place.

And he came inside, and he was all, "Dude, Stan." And he sounded really exasperated. He set his massive backpack down by the door and then sat on the couch next to me. "Did you lie about your grandpa the other day just to see me?"

So Wendy had told him. I shrugged. "Yeah,"

Kyle sighed. "Stan…" He tried to sound disapproving. I know he did. But I think he was secretly impressed by my awesome boyfriend skills.

"You owe me," I stated. "You got me sick." I don't really mind, though. It was worth it.

"I told you that would happen!" Kyle reminded me. It wasn't a big deal though. The virus just settled in my chest. Since, you know, I have asthma. It does suck, thanks for asking. But I'm never reduced to a miserable sniffling fatigued Jew like Kyle always is.

"Well, Wendy found out." Kyle told me. He sounded stern; I guess fucking Wendy hadn't already told him that I already knew. "She said that if the school finds out that you skipped without a reason, it'll go on your record."

"I know. I'm screwed." I said. "I can't get a scholarship to a good school if she fucking tattles."

"Well, she won't." Kyle assured me. "But, um. There's a condition."

"She wants you to take her to the homecoming dance," I finished. "It's blackmail, Kyle. She's blackmailing me. We can't let her get away with that!"

Kyle blinked. He was probably surprised that I already knew the deal. Figures fucking Wendy would keep him out of the loop.

"I don't think we have a choice," Kyle remarked sullenly.

"Kyle!" I exclaimed. "I can't just let fucking _Wendy_ steal my homecoming date!" I pulled him closer. Regularly, Kyle would be the one determined to win, and I'd be giving in to fucking Wendy's demands. Kyle very rarely accepts defeat; you know how he is. But I don't think dances matter very much to Kyle. Especially because he's a Jew, and as a result has no rhythm. You know. He can't dance. Taking Wendy to a formal social gathering wouldn't be as much of a chore for him.

"How about I take her, but not my insulin. And I drink some punch and faint. Then you can take me home and we'll watch movies in my living room." Kyle offered with a teasing grin.

"Kyle, no!" I protested. "You can't _make_ yourself sick because of something I wrote on my blog, come on."

"Aw," Kyle said, falsely dejected. He slouched against my chest, and I could feel his bony shoulder blades dig into me. "Then we could always take the Cartman approach and just kill her."

I knew he was one hundred percent kidding, but the suggestion of murder had never sounded so appealing.

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Stan said "like" less in this post because he is being super cereal. Poor Stan. He is being sabotaged.

I know I said that the chapters would be longer, but whatever, suck my dick. Blog posts aren't 4574328573249 pages long anyways, RIGHT? Or is that just me…

WELL THEY'LL GET LONGER SOON, I PROMISE.

Okay, okay. I have ideas again! REVIEW SO I CAN WRITE THEM DOWN?


	10. Heartfelt Interruption

I'm going to get to write about the homecoming dance soon. I'm so excited. You have no idea.

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I'm really frustrated. Firstly because I keep coughing and I can't find my inhaler, and that kind of bothers me. And also because of what happened this afternoon.

Kyle and I were at Stark's. We weren't doing anything special, you know, just sitting on a bench and making sure his brother didn't hurt himself skating. Since Kyle's mom is super protective of Ike. Even though he's, like, eleven and hardly needs supervision.

It really bums me out that it's so cold in South Park. I know, you've probably heard this a million times. It's ridiculous how often people complain about it. But it's true. It was like, thirty degrees today and it's only September. I don't like having to wear such a heavy coat this early in the fall.

But it's kind of convenient how Kyle always forgets his gloves, and he relies on my hands to warm his up. And I was doing just that, and we were laughing about something ludicrous Cartman did, and then a terrible thing happened.

Fucking Wendy decided to text Kyle.

So, of course, he had to pull his hands away from mine to look at his phone. Because, I swear, he is obsessive compulsive and hates leaving texts unanswered.

"Hey, um. Do you mind walking Ike home?" Kyle asked. He looked really guilty.

"I guess not," I shrugged. "Why?"

"Wendy needs me to help her pick out a dress," Kyle mumbled, his voice lowering an octave like it always does when he's upset.

"Don't girls usually go with _other_ girls for that kind of thing?" I asked.

"I can't go through with this," Kyle merely stated, avoiding my question. Fucking Wendy isn't like normal girls, I suppose. Because she is fucking WENDY.

"You won't have to," I promised, and brushed my lips against his. "Come on, the faster you go, the faster it's over."

Kyle looked so angry, and he did that thing where he just looks at the sky and furrows his eyebrows. Then he sighed, like, really audibly and was on his way. It shouldn't have been as bad as he was making it out to be, especially because he and fucking Wendy spent so much time studying anyway.

Right, so. Then I called Ike to take him home. You know, he's a pretty cool kid. Kind of a loner, but that's to be expected. Since he's like, Canadian or whatever. He's a real smart kid, too. And not smart in an awkward way like some child prodigies are, just in a perceptive way, you know?

Like, we stopped to get lunch before going to his place, since I was afraid I'd start coughing again if we walked too far at once. And because Kyle's mom would have been suspicious if we'd have come back so soon. There was a 50s-style café sort of place on the way, and it looked fast enough. So there I found myself, sitting at a table with my boyfriend's little brother. It wasn't as awkward as you might expect.

After we got our food, Ike was like, "Does your mom know you're going out with Kyle?"

I totally wasn't expecting that. Since Ike is in like, middle school (being the genius that he is, he skipped two grades) and I didn't really think that the news had spread so fast. I mean, I know Kyle couldn't have told him…

"Don't worry; I didn't spill to my folks." Ike continued, probably after seeing my (what I'm guessing was a) surprised expression. "But if you're trying to be inconspicuous, don't make out with him in front of his little brother." And then he just shot me this grin.

"Um. No. So far it's just a few kids at school." I explained.

"Or the ones that care enough to notice. After Craig, nobody really cares who's gay anymore. I wouldn't be too worried about telling your parents."

"I don't think it would bother my mom. But my dad's very, um. Traditional."

Ike leaned back, sipped his milkshake. Just all casual like. "Well, he'll be just as pissed if he finds out you're hiding shit from him. I get that he probably won't approve – fuck, my mother's going to fucking RAGE when…if, Kyle tells her – but it's better than just sneaking around."

"It isn't that much of a problem, though." I explained. "Kyle and I have been doing things alone together since pre-K. You know? Like, my parents don't even blink when I tell them I'm seeing a movie with Kyle, or whatever."

"Yeah, but what if someone catches you kissing or whatever and decides to let your parents know? Dude, Stan, shit, what if they let _my_ parents know?" He took a bite of his burger, chewing contemplatively. "They'd move us right back to San Francisco. That would be a disaster."

"Yeah," I replied. Because I really didn't know what else to say.

"Well, wait until after homecoming." Ike suggested. "It's supposed to be really embarrassing when your parents take pictures of you and your date, right?"

"I'm not going with Kyle," I told him.

"Oh," Ike just like, brushed it off. "Yeah, I don't blame you. Dances suck. God knows Kyle can't dance for shit, anyway. You guys catching a movie instead, or what?"

"No, it's… um." I stammered. I really didn't feel like explaining the fucking Wendy situation. "It's complicated."

Ike seemed content with my elucidation; he didn't pry.

I respect that.

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Again, not much was resolved. I suck at resolving things and making legitimate endings. But real blogs aren't always with some epic plot development in each post, so whatever, suck my dick.

More drama llama coming up in the next part. You will be surprised. Or not, if you pay attention to my epic foreshadowing. Holla.

REVIEW AND THE PLOT WILL THICKEN AS QUICKLY AS I CAN MAKE IT. PLEASE? I am greedy, like a covetous Jew. :D


	11. Theory

HAPPY EASTER, EVERYONE.

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I think I might have found a solution to the whole fucking Wendy problem. I know it might sound really weird and stupid, but just bear with me here, alright?

The solution is Cartman.

No, don't be stupid! I'm not going to take Kyle's advice and _kill_ fucking Wendy. If anything would keep me from getting a scholarship, it would be getting convicted for murder.

I just, well. Remember what Kenny said about fucking Wendy and Cartman having hot sex? Yeah, I know, I'm about to puke too – but it kind of makes sense, right? He's always going out of his way to harass her, and maybe he's such a dick to her because he's afraid of rejection. I mean, just a theory.

Cartman's pretty much a dick to everyone. But he's especially rude to Wendy. Of course, he won't admit to liking her or anything.

I would know. I asked him.

"That stuck up hippy bitch? The fuck, Stan! Gross! Could you wait until after I'm finished eating to talk about her? Jesus Christ, way to ruin a meal."

Cartman would be one to reference his lunch, after all. But that's not the point. He was really, really defensive. He kept reminding me all day that he hates feminist hippies like fucking Wendy.

So, um. Yeah. I'm pretty sure he has a thing for her. All I have to do is somehow get her to feel the same way towards him. Definitely harder than it sounds, but I have a plan.

The plan, of course, being Bebe.

I don't talk to Bebe that much. But Kenny does, which means he can find the secret to Wendy's heart through her. And he agreed to help me because he's a horny bastard and the thought of Cartman and Wendy getting it on apparently does something for him. He's a fucking sex fiend, Kenny is. Which is kind of convenient, given the situation.

And I know it seems like a lot of trouble. But I really want to go to Homecoming with Kyle. He looks good in a tie, okay? Shut up, I know I'm gay. Stop reminding me; this blog is enough evidence of that.

Well, so, according to Bebe (technically according to Kenny, but whatever), fucking Wendy is a hardcore feminist. Yes, _yes_, don't be retarded, I already knew that. But she doesn't want a guy to try and save her or sweep her off her feet or be traditionally romantic. She spends her time boycotting those Disney films that say a girl isn't complete without her Prince Charming.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't value chivalry, right? If Cartman would _respectfully_ ask her to the dance, I doubt she'd say no. And yeah, Kyle is obviously a way better catch… but he's _my_ fucking date and fucking Wendy isn't allowed to fucking blackmail me into letting him fucking take her. Fuckfuckfucker.

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I think I'll write the next part tonight. I'm too excited. Tell me if you like this idea first, though. Please?


	12. Solutions

Last chapter before the dance! I am seriously, you guys.

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I owe Kenny. So fucking much.

He really does have excellent persuasive skills. I mean, I guess I don't know firsthand, but the kid who gets Cartman a date for Homecoming is pretty much a hero in my book.

Really. Yeah. He did it. KENNY DID IT.

I mean, okay, yeah, Cartman probably didn't even look fucking Wendy in the eye when he asked her and he had to try pretty goddamn hard to abstain from calling her a hoe, but Cartman's methods don't even matter because fucking Wendy is going with him instead of Kyle.

That doesn't mean I'm home free, though. Fucking Wendy told me I wasn't allowed to tell Kyle.

Really. What the fuck?

That's what I said to fucking Wendy. And she was just like, "I'll tell Kyle myself. Rejecting someone so close to the dance is hardly courteous; I want to make sure he hears it from me so that he's not so upset."

"Kyle doesn't even _like_ you. He doesn't like _girls_." I told her. But fucking Wendy failed to understand this, I suppose.

"Well, regardless, let me tell him on my own. Don't mention the dance to him." Fucking Wendy said. It was like a demand, almost. She and Cartman really are perfect together. They're both so crazy and manipulative – Cartman's just way more open about it.

I think he's pretty stoked that he gets to take Wendy to the dance. He was complaining about how her dress was purple and how he doesn't want to wear a purple tie because that's "fucking gay, dude". So Kenny just told him to wear what he wants, but Cartman insisted that Homecoming dates have to match.

Oh my God, it was priceless.

And I guess Cartman was in on the whole don't-tell-Kyle deal, because when Kyle came to the lunch table and buried his head in his arms while moaning something about how lame Homecoming would be this year, Cartman just snickered with a disgustingly smug look on his face.

"What are you laughing at, Fatass," Kyle said exasperatedly. It wasn't really a question.

"Nothing. Jew."

Fucking Wendy has a really good sense of fashion, I'll give her that. Obviously not as good as Millie's or Bebe's, but she picked out a really nice outfit for Kyle to wear on Saturday. It's like, a dark, teal collared shirt thing with a cute little vest and matching pants. So now I think I have to wear something teal. Because Homecoming dates are supposed to match, right?

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THIS WAS SHORT THIS WAS SHORT THIS WAS SHORT, SO SHORT. I KNOW, I'M SORRY.

OH GOD, OH JESUS. I am just too excited to write about the dance. Because I'm a loser and that's all I really have to look forward to in life, lol.

Also, I HAVE A QUESTION! Well, alright, so I'm a chick and as a result I am incredibly fascinated with clothes. Should I bother describing what everyone's wearing to the dance? I feel like that chapter is going to be super freaking long if I do, but adkhfaskjlfhask OMG MATCHING HOMECOMING DATESSSS!

Yes or no?


	13. Unexpectations

Okay, confession. Before, I would just look at my email and reply to reviews from there. Because it was easier for me. And then someone said they were my one-hundredth review. SERIOUSLY? I never _ever_ expected this to get so popular. I whip up short, crappy chapters in like ten minutes and it gets this popular? I don't deserve it. Really, you guys! Thanks so much.

And, here it is. The dance. Lucky thirteen.

-

-

So, I'm sitting at my computer in my boxers and Kyle's asleep on my bed.

No, we did not have sex.

I know, I know. It _sounds_ like we did. And it might look like it, too. Because, you know. He's wearing one of my old t-shirts. If my dad came in, he'd flip shit. But he's out drinking tonight, so that isn't really a concern.

It's weird, because I started the night out kind of pissed off. Okay, to be technical, I started it off excited and _then_ pissed off (you can probably guess why). But um. It wasn't bad, really. Despite what you might read in the next few minutes, I had an okay time. Interesting and hardly ideal, but far from a nightmare.

So, okay. I get dressed and I'm wearing a pressed shirt and a teal tie to match Kyle. I walked to my car with the sleeves rolled up, but since South Park is like, minus eight million degrees (really), I ended up regretting it. Too lazy to bother pulling them down, though. Besides, that would look dumb.

I think Kyle's vest was made for girls. It fit him well, but I really do have yet to see an article of clothing that would wrap that tightly around Kyle's twenty-two inch waist. And he had this cute skinny Jew tie. Kind of like the one he would always wear when we were kids.

When I came to his place to pick him up, Kyle looked genuinely confused.

"Stan? Dude, I have to pick up Wendy. My dad's letting me take the car tonight." Fucking Wendy hadn't told him that she had replaced him with Cartman. She was actually planning on standing him up. Bitch.

"No, screw that!" I grabbed his wrist and dragged him to my car. He called to his dad that he was leaving before pulling the door closed.

His shirt was the same color of his eyes. A medium between gray and teal. I noticed, because his eyes were sparkling like they always do when he's excited. I know it sounds cliché and horribly faglicious, but I mean. Really. That's what they looked like when we drove past fucking Wendy's house.

"Stan, wait! I'm supposed to pick Wendy up!" Kyle told me, turning around to watch as her house faded into the distance.

"No," I corrected him. I'm pretty sure I was grinning like a fucking lunatic, but I didn't care. I grabbed his left hand with my right one until we got to the dance. Kyle still seemed pretty confused, but I didn't want to risk fucking Wendy's wrath by breaking my end of the deal. It wasn't over until the dance was over, after all.

Kyle was so embarrassed. He refused to dance. Because he really can't. Kyle has awkwardly long limbs and he really doesn't know what to do with them. He's not necessarily graceful. And his Jewish lack of rhythm, although endearing, doesn't help him much either.

We sat at a table with Kenny and Bebe. Yeah, I know, everyone expected us to be with Craig and Tweek. The school's only two gay couples. But I don't really talk to either of them very much; that would just make it awkward. And Craig always flips me off. It's so lame.

"I didn't know you two were together," Kyle said to Kenny, who was wearing all charcoal black and a crimson tie.

"We're just friends," Bebe, clad in a sultry cherry cocktail dress, explained.

"Fuck buddies," Kenny whispered with a toothy grin. Bebe rolled her eyes, and Kenny raised his eyebrows suggestively. She went off to dance with Clyde. Kenny only shrugged before sauntering over to Butters (dressed in the queerest baby blue top you could imagine, with his hair done up all special).

Kyle checked his phone. "Have you seen Wendy? Dude, she's going to be _pissed_ when she finds out that –"

I didn't let him finish his thought. Kyle has a tendency to overanalyze. Instead, I poked him in the side (fuckfuck_fuck_ he's skinny, I could feel his ribs jutting out) and gestured to the couple of the evening, arguing near the punch bowl.

And there she stood. I hate to admit it, but fucking Wendy looked pretty nice. Her dress was knee length with an empire waist, a deep shade of violet with a thin white ribbon. She had a white corsage that matched Cartman's boutonniere. Fuck, Cartman looked gayer than I did. Pinstripes, purple tie. Gelled hair. I mean, yeah, don't get me wrong. He didn't look bad. He just looked gay.

Wendy was calling him bigoted for some reason, and I'm pretty sure that he called her a hoe. The both looked genuinely pissed off.

"_Cartman_?" Kyle seethed. I could tell he was getting really flustered. "Wendy was going to stand me up forCARTMAN?"

I really thought he was going to like, rage everywhere. His face got flushed and he furrowed his eyebrows, then he stood up and began to stride over to her.

But then he swayed. And collapsed.

Seriously, that freaked me out. I know Kyle's weak and diabetic, but I've never seen him faint. It was so abrupt, and a bunch of people crowded around him. Okay, really, it was like four or five people but it was still really unnerving. Especially with the fucking alternative pop music playing in the background. It just didn't fit the scene well, I thought.

I pushed through a bunch of people to get to him. Token was lifting him up and set him on a chair, but Kyle just kind of slumped over. I put my hand on his shoulder.

I think I shouted his name a few times, but I don't remember. Token asked if we needed a ride to Hell's Pass, but I shook my head. Remember what I said about hating hospitals? No, yeah. I really do hate them.

"He's fine, he's fine." I chanted, more of a reassurance to myself than a report to anyone else. "He's waking up."

He was shaking and his eyes were half-lidded, but Kyle was conscious. That was all I really needed to know.

Oh, and to make things better, fucking Wendy had to show up. Of course, Cartman was with her.

"What's wrong with the Jew?"

"Shut up, Cartman." I snapped.

Someone – I don't remember, maybe it was Craig or something – informed them that Kyle had passed out. Someone else suggested a hospital again.

"Kyle. Are you okay?" I asked again. "Do you… do you need to see a doctor?"

Kyle shook his head, and Token gestured for everyone to back up and give him some air.

"Insulin," Kyle mumbled. He rested his head in his hand.

"Fuck, Kyle." What had happened instantly clicked, and I glared at fucking Wendy. "Could you have at least _told_ him that he didn't have to take you? He didn't want to go with you in the first place! He skipped out on his shots and made himself sick so he could get out of it! Wendy, if you were pissed at me before, you shouldn't have taken it out on Kyle! Consider someone else's feelings for once!" I think I might have called her a fucking bitch a few times, too, but I don't remember exactly. It's not important. What is important is what happened next.

"Ay! Don't talk to my date that way, you son of a bitch!" Before I had time to react, Cartman's meaty fist collided with my abdomen. I hate getting punched in the stomach. It fucking _hurts_.

I wasn't doubled over for more than ten seconds, and by then I was ready to throw the second punch. But Mackey intercepted. He was like, "M'kay, break it up, m'kay! M'kay!" like he always does. Cartman put his arm around Wendy and they walked off somewhere. I really don't care where it was. If I wasn't so fucking pissed at them right now, I might actually approve of their relationship. But I am, so it doesn't matter.

"Kyle, come on." I lifted him off the chair and slung his arm around my shoulder. "I'm taking you home."

He didn't protest until we were in my car. "Wait," He murmured, his cheek pressed up against my window. "No, my mom's home. Take me to your place. I think I left an insulin pen in your bathroom last time I slept over."

"You sure?" I asked.

"Yeah, my mom would kill me. I'll call her later and tell her I'm staying at your place tonight. Is that okay?"

"Sure, yeah. That's fine."

So we got to my house. My dad goes to the bar with Ned and Uncle Jimbo on Saturdays, so we didn't have to get past him. My mom was watching TV in the den, but she just asked me if I had a good time and went back to her program.

First things first, Kyle took his insulin and called his mom. She didn't seem to put up much of a fight regarding his crashing at my house, which was both uncharacteristic and awesome.

"I'm sorry I ruined your night," Kyle apologized before I could lecture him on the dangers of diabetic ketoacidosis.

"It's fine," I lifted his bangs to kiss his forehead. He smelled less like oranges and more like cologne. "I'm sorry you didn't really have a good time, either."

Kyle adjusted himself on my bed so that his head was against my pillows. "I don't really care about dances, anyway. I'm just glad I didn't have to go with _Wendy_. That's why I didn't take my insulin. I wanted to spend the evening with you."

"Well, I guess your plan worked after all."

"You could say that," Kyle looked contemplative, and then he laughed that sputtering giggle like he did when he first found my blog. "Hah… are you going to write about this in your online journal?"

"I might. It's not like I have anyone else to tell." I reasoned. Really, it isn't.

"Maybe I'll make one, too." Kyle grinned sarcastically. I couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. And I couldn't ask him, because then he fell asleep.

And, well. Here I am.

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ALRIGHT, IT'S DONE. HERE IT IS, DONE AND OVER. I'm so sad. Really, I am. I loved writing this so much.

Was this okay? I really must know.

And tell me if you think I should make a sequel! And who/what I should make it about! I love requests, I do indeed.

Thanks for sticking through this massive chapter. I love you.


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